Katrina’s POV
The walls were closing in on me.
It didn’t matter that Damon’s penthouse soared above the city like a fortress, all glass and marble and impossible views. No matter how high we were, no matter how expensive the cage, it was still a cage. And tonight, I felt every inch of it pressing into my skin.
Lucas was alive. That was the only truth I clung to. Alive because I had begged. Alive because Damon had listened. But alive didn’t mean safe.
No, Damon had made sure of that.
His words from earlier rang in my skull: He’ll be useful if he’s kept alive. As bait.
I pressed my palms to my face, trying to block it out. But the images came anyway—Lucas slumped in chains, Damon circling him like a wolf, every word dripping with calculated cruelty. Lucas wasn’t free. He wasn’t spared.
